


Tangible power

by Chibiness87



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Castle, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Pre Curse, Smidge Of Angst, blink and you miss it - Freeform, don't know why i'm even tagging angst, enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Of all the places he thought he’d be today, this is not one of them.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Tangible power

**Author's Note:**

> New ship! So I watched season 1-6 in about… oh… 2 weeks? Why no, I don’t have anything better to do with my time than to fall in love with these two dorks. Thanks for asking. Happy New Year.

**Tangible power** , by **chibness87**  
**Rating** : G  
**Season** / **Spoilers** : Set pre curse, but post the flashbacks in Heroes and Villains  
**Disclaimer** : Not mine. No infringement intended. No money gained.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin is, dare he say it, in a good mood.

This may have something to do with the fact that his little maid has managed to go an entire week without falling off ladders or making nice with thieves or being kidnapped, or it may even be that she hasn’t burnt the tea once in that time. It could have something to do with the absolutely decadent deal he’s just made, a deal which brings him one step closer to Regina and the curse. One step closer to Bae. It may even be because for once no one has come riding up to his door demanding help because of _insert crisis here_.

He’s in such a jovial mood, he even decides to arrive back from his little trip on the outside of his castle, rather than immediately behind his caretaker and scare her, the way she keeps demanding him not to do. It’s more tiresome for him to do this, steps having to be actually taken, but the slam of the door against the stone when he pushes them wide makes up for it.

A little.

What does not make up for it, however, is the state of the entryway.

Normally, Belle is quite good at making sure at least the entrance to their shared abode is well maintained, if only for appearances sake. Can’t have it be known the Dark One can’t even have a floor swept now and again. But it’s not just a bit of muck that makes the place look out of sorts, it’s well… it’s the debris.

He’s almost certain there are the remains of a chair here, which makes no sense, because the nearest chair was kept in the Great Hall. Slowly, Rumplestiltskin makes his way to the doors of the Hall, only to freeze in place. Because there are none.

Instead, shards of timber hang weakly off the hinges that somehow, miraculously it would appear, have not been dealt the harsh blow of the wood. The table is smashed, chairs dispersed, and there is no sign of his little maid anywhere.

That thought brings him up short.

 _Belle_.

Taking a deep breath, he lets his senses free. Because despite what he tells her, he can and does and _often_ listens to her. The hum as she sweeps the floor, the soft sighs when she’s lost in the pages of a book, the literary of curses he wonders at when she’s burnt the dinner. Again.

Feeling for her, instead he finds himself awash in a sense he has only come across a handful of times before. Magic. _Old_ magic. And now he is aware of it, he wonders how he ever managed to get this far into his home before recognises it, because unlike light magic, this is deep and resonating, heavy on the air and on his tongue. His skin begins to tingle at the sensation of so much power, his inner beast demanding he take it as his own. And oh, what he could do with it. Make the curse stronger, more robust. Give him more chance to find his son.

But first, he needs to find Belle.

Correction: first he needs to _save_ Belle. Because if his little caretaker can find a way to be kidnapped a scant few minutes after being directed to the garden to bring the washing in, when he was supposed to be _looking out for her_ , he doesn’t dare think what she’s managed to do in the hours he’s been absent this time.

He’s torn now. Because he won’t be able to save Belle unless he knows where she is, but he won’t be able to save her at all if he doesn’t deal with this new threat that has dared to enter his home. Because it is a threat, to her if not to him, and he promised she would be safe. So as much as it galls him (and he is not going to wonder at that notion _at all_ ), he concentrates on the magic he can still feel in the air. It’s handy, in a way, that it is so old and so powerful, because it means the threads are almost pulsating ropes in his mind’s eye, instead of the gossamer threads he usually has to deal with.

Closing his eyes once more, he lets himself focus on the centre of the magic’s pull. He knows he’s still on his own lands, which in itself is confusing, but not nearly as confusing as the location he ends up in. It’s not the kitchen or the library, so at least Belle hasn’t taken it upon herself to start _entertaining_ , but neither is it the dungeon nor one of the smaller reception rooms. It isn't even his workroom.

No, when his smoke clears and his eyes open, his is, unmistakably, in a broom closet. It is, all in all, rather bemusing.

“Stay back!”

Or maybe not.

“Belle?” It’s dark and gloomy in this little hidey-hole his maid has sequestered herself into, and he pulls a fireball to his hand for light without thought.

“No!”

It’s the fear, more than anything else, which makes him extinguish the flame. Because for all he’s heard, for all he’s seen, his Belle is mighty and fierce and brave. She does not shake and shiver and cower. She certainly doesn’t _hide_. Even when she was taken, even tied up and obviously hungry and held to ransom, her head had been held high. So to see her like this, to hear her like _this_ , well, it does something rather… unpleasant to his heart. Something he didn’t know it was still able to do.

“Belle?” _Dearie_ is on his tongue, but he holds it back.

She doesn’t answer, not in words. Instead, he only gets a pitiful moan. The magic, he realises suddenly. The intruder. That’s what has her so terrified. And oh, smite him with a dozen curses for forgetting she is not safe yet for even a heartbeat.

“Who is it?” The demand is harsh and brash, the Dark One in control. _If they have harmed one **single** hair on her head…_ “Tell me! Who’s here?”

But Belle shakes her head, eyes wide. Unable to resist when she is cowering so, he pulls forth another flame, but softer this time, smaller. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Belle flinches away from the light, but as she does so he notices something he missed before. There is something in her eye, something that doesn’t quite tally with her usual blue gaze. Added to the way she continues to pull away from him, his curiosity is piqued.

Brightening the flame in his hand, he tries not to let her actions stall him, even as he all but pushes her further back into the corner of their small space. Her eyes flash, rapidly moving between his hand and the flame and the door he belatedly realises he’s stood in front of. But the rapid movement finally lets him see her, and he lets out a startled breath even as he realises _oh_ , what a stupid fool he is.

Because looking at her, seeing her, feeling her, he realises he can’t. All he can feel is the magic, glowing and rippling and sparkling in her eyes. _This_ is the intruder. This is why he was brought here; the power- it’s in _her_.

“And what, may I ask, have you been doing while I was away, hmmm?” Anger warring with concern makes the question harsher than he wants it to be.

Belle ducks her head, hands grasping at each other near her waist, and he watches in almost amusement as sparks flash between her fingers. He knows he shouldn’t take such delight in her obvious plight, but by _gods_ , he thought her lost to him, and how _dare_ she scare him like that? No. No, she will get no pity from him.

“Been somewhere we shouldn’t have, have we, Dearie?” And now his tone _is_ mocking, high pitched and tittering, the curse of the Dark One taking over once more. “Been snooping around, playing at being a great sorceress, were we? What’s the matter, bitten off a bit more than you can chew?” And he flashes his teeth at her, daring her to refute him when he’s all but caught her red handed.

“I was cleaning!”

He grins in delight at her tone. There. _There_ is the little spirited woman he knows. There’s the woman who stood up to her father and her betrothed and demanded she be the mistress of her own fate. Eyes wide and dark, energy sizzling from her very being, more literal now with the untapped power singing in her veins. And oh, he knows it is. Can see it, sense it, _feel_ it as it pulses though her blood. How long, he wonders, has she had this power? How long has she had to hide it from him?

And how long before she gives in to its song?

Her response finally interrupts his thoughts. “You have so many things in that cabinet, and I was just cleaning them. And then one of them… it’s like it zapped me, or something. And then the next thing I know…” and she waves her hand in a way which reminds him so much of his own flamboyant gesturing, he wonders if she is mocking him. But then he remembers the state of the Hall, not to mention the entry way, and figures she means it in a much more… energetic manner. He nods, almost happy to let that rest, but then she darts her eyes away, and the gesture is so familiar to him he knows that that wasn’t the power; that was her. There’s something else.

“So, why are we hiding in a broom closet?”

“We’re not!”

Rumplestiltskin takes a moment to look pointedly around the small room. It even, as luck would have it, has a mop and bucket tucked away behind a broom in the corner not currently playing host to his maid. He doesn’t quite go as far as voicing the obvious, but then again he doesn’t exactly have to.

“I’m hiding. You’re… gate-crashing.”

That she admits she’s hiding makes his chest to that tightness thing again. Softer now, he asks, “And why are you hiding?”

“Because I’m dangerous.”

Her answer makes him take a step back in shock. Well. As if that isn't the most stupid and ridiculous thing he has ever heard. Dangerous indeed. And to him, of all people. He scoffs. “Hardly.”

Belle bites her lip in a way which is most distracting. (Not that he’s distracted by her. Not at all.) “I take it you haven’t seen the Hall?”

Well, now that she mentions it, there is no denying she is currently rather… powerful. But powerful and dangerous are two different things, and if anyone were to know, it’d be him.

“Or the kitchen?”

“You were hardly safe in there, dear. So that doesn’t count.” Though he is wondering just how much magic he’s going to have to spend on setting his home to rights because of her. Again.

“I’m serious, Rumple.” She looks down. Away. “You need to stay away from me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not really an answer, Dearie.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!”

He can’t help it. He can’t. He laughs. Hard and slightly manic, the mere idea that Belle, his little maid, endorsed with power or no could hurt him, the Dark One… it’s crazy.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

Instantly he quiets, but not because of her words. But because with her demand the sparks that have been darting between her fingertips have merged, and if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes the fireball which has just obliterated the door behind him would have hit him in the chest. And, while nothing can kill him except his dagger, being engulfed in fire would still hurt an awful hell of a lot.

“Oh gods! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Shaking, Belle huddles yet further into the corner of the closet, curling her hands up against her chest in fear.

“ _Belle_.”

“I’m so sorry. Oh gods. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean…”

“Shhh. Shhh, Belle. Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He goes to take a step forward, but stops when she moans in fear.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s okay.” Slowly, he takes the step forward again, hand outstretched, palm up, pleased when this time she doesn’t move. “It’s okay, dear.”

“I didn’t…”

“You won’t hurt me.” Another step brings him almost within touching distance. Recalling what she said about cleaning, he suddenly realises just which artefact has been the cause of all this. “You won’t hurt me, Belle. Let me help you now, okay? Will you let me do that?” He closes the remaining space, hand falling to hers. “Let me help you.”

“Rumple…”

“Shhh. Shhh, now. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Conjuring a flask, he closes his eyes and lets his magic tug and pull at the still pulsing rope he can see of the power invested in her. Slowly, the knots around her loosen, and he encourages the magic from her, filling the flask with its essence instead. He hears a gasp, her hand tightening in his grip, the magic grasping weakly at her hair. “Easy now, I’ve got you. You’re okay. Trust me, Belle. It’s okay.”

She gives a small cry as the last tendrils leave her, and he closes the flask with his mind, his hand still holding hers. Drawing her to him, he lets her weight land on him, her one arm coming up in a lose hug, the other still held in his hand, her head nestled under his chin. “There now. That’s better, isn't it?”

He more feels than sees her nod, the flutter of her eyelashes against his neck a light tickle. She rests her head against his shoulder for a long moment, but when she pulls back it is _Belle_ staring back at him.

Releasing his own breath of relief, Rumplestiltskin finally lets her hand go. It is only at the loss of contact he realises just what he called her while trying desperately to calm her. How right it felt. _Sweetheart_. He can only hope she doesn’t recall it herself.

“Rumple?”

Her voice is hesitant, and he forces a swallow. Whatever she asks, he will not lie to her. She deserves that much today.

“Yes, dear?” The endearment falls off his lips easily. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

She quirks and eyebrow at him. “Why are we in a broom closet?”

* * *

End

Thoughts?


End file.
